


A Feast for One

by FatAssMirage



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, Other, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25940302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatAssMirage/pseuds/FatAssMirage
Summary: “I wish to join you,” they spoke, voice gentle and polite as they always were.“Um,” Elliott began, feeling a flush beginning to form on his face. “I, um.”“Not to eat,” they clarified, seeing Elliott’s reaction. “I wish to observe.”
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	A Feast for One

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a Twitter post but then turned into a lot more.
> 
> First time writing Bloodhound, so I apologize for any mischaracterizations. I hope you enjoy!

Elliott was so engrossed in his cooking that he was surprised when there was another person in the communal kitchen with him. Bloodhound stood in the doorway, likely drawn to the smell of grilled pork chops, sweet glazes, and garlicky mashed potatoes. The reason Elliott had chosen today to do this was because he thought he would be alone in the compound, everyone else taking the day off to head home or to meetings. This would be embarrassing to say but…

“Sorry Hound,” Elliott began as he was finishing up some of the sides. “I’d invite you to eat but I sort of made this all for myself.”

Bloodhound turned their head to stare at Elliott, and then back to the many plated up dishes, waiting to be move to the dining table. 

“I wish to join you,” they spoke, voice gentle and polite as they always were.

“Um,” Elliott began, feeling a flush beginning to form on his face. “I, um.”

“Not to eat,” they clarified, seeing Elliott’s reaction. “I wish to observe.”

Elliott was a bit taken back by their response, but well… he's hardly going to deny their request. They even helped him set the table, insisting that Elliott take a seat so they may assist. The trickster felt a wave of nervousness flood his body as he watched Bloodhound carefully set down each plate that Elliott had prepared. A literal feast. Once the table is set, they politely took their seat next to Elliott and invited him to begin. 

Elliott does as he's told, carefully filling his plate with pork chops, mashed potatoes, a variety of veggies, and some buttered bread. It's a simple meal, one his mother has prepared him many times in his childhood. One he often revisits for occasions just like this, a means to relive his memories. Before everything changed.

Once his plate was made, he stared at it before chancing a glance at his dining partner. Their mask covered their features, not allowing Elliott any hints to what they were thinking. What they were thinking of him.

However, they seemed to have noticed his hesitation. Somehow, Bloodhound giving a slight nod conveyed so much meaning to Elliott. It was a nod of approval, one he was thankful for.

"To the Allfather," they said softly, the tilt of their head not facing away from Elliott. He could feel their stare, even through the googles.

"Yeah buddy," Elliott replied nervously, raising his glass of water on toast. "To the Allfather." It was awkward but it felt right, polite in a way.

Elliott nervously began to cut off a piece of porkchop. Piercing it with his fork, all the nervous energy seemed to wash away after he began to chew. The delicious flavor of the Witt's world famous pork chop recipe flooded his senses, making him desperate for more.

Now that the focus was on the food, rather than his dining guest, he was doing exactly what he had planned to do from the beginning: eating until he couldn't anymore. He was clearing his plate at a speed that even impressed him, encouraging himself to keep up his pace and keep eating, more and more.

Elliott was only pulled from his trance he was in when he saw a gloved hand lifting up his barely just cleaned off plate. Before a new one was promptly placed in front of him. His eyes naturally looked to who had removed his plate, and of course it was Hound. 

"Enjoy," they softly encouraged. And then they started to fill that plate backup with food.

Oh.

Oh wow.

Elliott couldn't help the flush that covered his face. The implication that Bloodhound expected him to not only finish his second helping, but also to enjoy a third. It...was beyond flattering.

Elliott wanted the tracker to be proud of him, suddenly. They obviously had high expectations of him. The unbearable desire to earn Bloodhound's respect filled his mind, as he filled his stomach.   
Before Elliott even knew it, he was finishing his second plate. And then his third, a fourth being generously placed in front of him. At this point, his belly has grown round, skin pulled taut from the sheer amount of food he had ingested. Elliott hadn't expected to be watched today, which is why he was purposely wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a black short sleeve V neck, both of which were purposely on the tight side. His shirt had pulled up, exposing just a sliver of his stomach and he had to subtly adjust the stretchy waistband of his sweats down under the growing mound of a stomach. It was embarrassing, that he had chosen these clothes knowing they would purposely grow tight on himself as he ate. 

Did Bloodhound judge him for that? Maybe even judge him for the fact that he was chubbing up in his pants, the stretchy material doing absolutely nothing to hide it. For all he knew, Bloodhound likely found him disgusting for getting _excited_ about the situation.  
But even that embarrassment wasn't enough to stop him from eating more…

"You've done well," they spoke suddenly, making Elliott jerk in surprise. His rounded belly shifted uncomfortably from the movement, the trickster barely hiding a groan of discomfort behind his fist. 

"I-um, thanks..." Elliott was absolutely not sure how to react to that. It was obviously praise, not something he expected. But he was finishing his fourth helping of food, albeit much slower than his previous plates. 

"Allow me to help," they said as they reached a hand over to Elliott's stomach. Elliott saw them hover the hand over his belly, anxiety churning the contents of his gut uncomfortable, anticipating the touch. But they weren't touching yet, the mask tilted in his direction, waiting.  
They wanted permission.

"P-please," he whimpered out, with little thought or hesitation. 

When Bloodhound's gloved hand touched his belly, Elliott couldn't help the moan that escaped his throat. They began to rub him in soothing circles, easing the ache that was building there from all the food he had been eating. His face was hot, flush traveling up to his ears in a strange mixture of arousal and embarrassment. He was panting too, his cock twitching in his pants eagerly, hoping to receive attention too.

"Felagie fighter," Bloodhound cooed to him softly, forcing Elliott to open his eyes he hadn't realized he closed. Bloodhound had scooted their chair closer, one hand still rubbing circles into the side of his tummy and the other was holding a spoon of steamed vegetables up to his lips. "Please, continue."

Elliott wasn't about to argue with that. 

Parting his lips enough for the spoon to fit between them, the tracker fed him the spoonful before drawing it back out. Before it returned again, this time with a heap of hearty mashed potatoes piled on it. Elliott ate that offering as well. 

They continued like this, Elliott giving soft moans as he ate what Bloodhound offered him. His cock was positively drooling, a noticeable wet spot had formed on the front of his sweats. Cock still untouched, namely because the tracker's hand refused to leave the impressively rounded belly Elliott was sporting. They had rolled up the shirt to fully expose the mound that filled his lap, fingers exploring everywhere they could reach. They were currently playing with the hair just below his navel, getting desperately close to the bulge in his pants, making his cock twitch eagerly.

Before they pulled away. A tease.

"I must say," they spoke, breaking the silence the two have built between each other. "I'm impressed. Five plates is quite a feat."

Elliott's face somehow managed to feel even hotter from the praise. He hadn't even realized he started another plate, they snuck it in on him. Not that he was necessarily complaining.

Before Elliott could reply, thank them for the praise, they continued. "One completing such an achievement deserves a proper reward," they spoke softly, the hand that had been feeding him setting down the fork and instead resting on his inner thigh. 

The delighted whimper Elliott managed could have been enough consent for them to proceed, but Elliott couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Please," he begged, covering a soft burp with his fist. "Please, Hound, please."

"Shh," they softly hushed him, their hand drawing up further on the leg. "You've done so well."

Before Elliott's mind could catch up on the situation, the gloved hand was reaching into the waistband of his pants and underwear, gripping his length in a tight fist. The other hand was still planted on the side of his stomach, giving him a soft pat as they began to jerk him off.

Elliott did not last long, how could he? With that much attention, that much build up, hand feeding and belly rubs, he was completely undone. Elliott came with a loud moan, his hips jerking forward into the first that surrounded his cock, cum soaking through his sweats. His belly was shifted uncomfortably again, but the tracker continued to pet and rub his stomach to soothe any pain or discomfort he felt.

Only once he had calmed down, body going slack against the chair he was sat in, did they remove their hand. Elliott watched with half lidded eyes as they casually removed the glove from their hand and hid it in their pocket, likely because he got cum on it. He wanted to apologize, offer to clean it for them, but the ungloved hand was now cupping his jaw, thumb brushing against his beard hair as they spoke. 

"Rest now, felagi fighter, you've done well today."

Their voice was so soft, Elliott couldn't resist the command for rest. He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him. Thankful for the care his squad mate gave him, and hoped for more once he awoke.

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkshame me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/FatAssMirage)


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